


Nobody Puts Baby In A Corner

by harleyyquinn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek to the Rescue, M/M, Sad and drunk Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3454283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleyyquinn/pseuds/harleyyquinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He blindly groped around his coffee table until finding his phone and cracking an eye open to see the dopey smile of Stiles’ face, courtesy of the contact photo taken and set by Stiles himself. He swiped to unlock the phone and answered with a gruff, “What?”</p>
<p>Only it wasn’t Stiles ready with a sharp barb on the other end of the line, it was a girls’ voice whom he didn’t recognize. “Is this Derek?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Puts Baby In A Corner

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like Derek could give the best hugs.

The credits to _Goodfellas_ ran in the upper corner of Derek’s tv screen. The Netflix suggested list of similar movies remained ignored as Derek soundly slept while spread out across his couch. He had been trying to work through his rather extensive watch list created by Stiles. It turned out that Stiles had been pretty appalled at how many popular culture references went over Derek’s head, and so he was on a mission to fix him one movie or show at a time. This Friday’s particular mission had been to watch _Goodfellas_ and understand why Stiles argues it’s the best gangsters movie he’s ever seen (he turns his nose up at any who say _The Godfather_ is better). But now Derek will have to watch at least the last full hour again since he passed out cold. He had been finding out the hard way that being one of the good guys consisted of a lot of late nights, and a lot of work.  
  
Derek was, in his opinion rather rudely, awoken by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He blindly groped around his coffee table until finding his phone and cracking an eye open to see the dopey smile of Stiles’ face, courtesy of the contact photo taken and set by Stiles himself. He swiped to unlock the phone and answered with a gruff, “What?”  
  
Only it wasn’t Stiles ready with a sharp barb on the other end of the line, it was a girls’ voice whom he didn’t recognize. “Is this Derek?”  
  
Derek sat upright immediately. “Yes. Who is this?” All sounds of sleep were gone from his voice.  
   
“It’s Julia, I have a couple of classes with Stiles. And, I didn’t really want to call. Well, he didn’t really want me to call. But I didn’t know-”  
  
“Julia,” Derek cut her off impatiently, “is Stiles okay?”  
  
“Um, mostly?” Derek was up and looking for his car keys. “He got a little more drunk tonight than I think he’s used to. And he’s..”  
  
“He’s what?” Derek found his keys half hidden under the book he’d been reading earlier and was heading out the door before waiting for the answer.  
  
“Sad, heartbreakingly sad. And I don’t know what to do.”  
  
Derek froze on the apartment steps. “Sad? Is he hurt?”  
  
“I don’t think so. But I think he might be crying? And when I managed to get his phone to call you he very adamantly told me not to tell you that part.” The sounds of the party could be heard behind her, as if she was trying to distance herself. “But I thought it might be kind of important for you to know.”  
  
“Did you call anyone else for him? Scott? His Dad?” The cool air washed over Derek as he made it outside and into his car.  
  
“He wouldn’t let me.” The worry came through her voice clearly. “Should I have? I’ve never really seen him like this before.”  
  
“No, not if he wouldn’t let you.” Derek tried not to dwell on why Stiles allowed her to call him instead. “I need you to tell me exactly where you are.”  
  
-  
  
Derek had to park a street over from the party, unable to get any closer. But he knew which house it was from a mile away, as the party had spilled out onto the front lawn despite the cooler autumn air. It was a street full of student housing, and Derek didn’t want to really think about what sorts of things they must get up to. Derek couldn’t even appreciate the messy art of getting drunk. Along with having some more important things to deal with when he was the same age as the 19 and 20 year olds he was stepping around, alcohol for the purpose of getting hammered was simply wasted on him thanks to his supernatural genes. As Derek watched a guy vomiting into the bushes, he thought maybe that wasn’t always such a bad thing.  
  
The house was large, a little beat up, and overflowing with loud students who were in varied states of sobriety. In general Derek had no problems with parties, or even under-aged drinking. He tended to have bigger and usually much worse problems to contend with than what other people got up to with their free time. But right this minute he wanted nothing more than to kick every one of the unruly kids out until he could find Stiles. He pushed through the bodies trying to get to the backyard where there would be some distance between him and the thumping speakers. Derek had tried to follow Stiles’ scent, but it was lost within the pulsating crowd.  
  
Stiles’ cell phone rang four times, three too many for Derek’s liking, before Julia answered. “Hi! Oh good, are you close?”  
  
“I’m already here. Where is he?”  
  
“We’re upstairs, just at the end of the hallway.”  
  
Derek hung up and fought back through the crowd and up the stairs he had passed by the front door. There was a couple enthusiastically making out against one of the linen closet doors, and another few people lingering in bedrooms that were presumably off-limits, but upstairs was thankfully quieter. And at the end of the hallway sat a very pretty blonde girl with thick black frame glasses. She stood up as he approached, “You’re Derek?”  
  
Derek nodded curtly, “Where is he?” He asked for at least the fourth time since Julia first called him.  
  
“In there,” she nodded her head at the closed bathroom door. “He shut himself in there about an hour ago and won’t come out.”  
  
Derek wished he could have found this funny instead of worrying. “What’s he had to drink?”  
  
“I’m not sure. We didn’t come together, I just found him sitting on the stairs looking miserable.” She handed over Stiles’ phone for Derek to pocket, “I wanted to get him home to sleep it off but he won’t come out for me no matter how nicely I ask.”  
  
Derek had enough mind to realize how considerate the girl was being, and he’d have to remind Stiles later that he owed her more than just a free coffee. Derek pressed his ear to the door as the cacophony of party noises berated him while he tried to hear Stiles. He tuned out the music, and the voices yelling and cheering over drinking games, until he could hone in on just Stiles; his heartbeat sounded erratic, like a hummingbird’s wings beating furiously against his ribs. Derek could also make out the very distinct noise of sobs wracking Stiles’ lithe frame that instantly made him want to kick the door down.  
  
Except that Julia was still waiting expectantly behind him, so instead he leaned against the door and called out, “Stiles? It’s Derek. I’m going to need you to come unlock the door, okay?” There was a distinct silence where Derek figured he’d have to break the door down anyway, before he heard what sounded like Stiles scrambling out of the tub and wrenched the door open. Derek felt a painful twinge in his chest as he took in the dishevelled state of him, noting a red hickey visible on his neck partially hidden by the collar of his shirt. But then Stiles was reaching for Derek’s sleeve, eagerly tugging him into the bathroom with him.  
   
Derek only just remembered the slightly bewildered Julia before he let Stiles pull him away, “Thanks for calling. But I think this might take a minute.”  
  
She looked torn about what to do, but offered a helpless shrug as if to say _he’s your problem now_ , as Derek followed Stiles in and closed the door behind him. Stiles reached around to flip the lock before turning around and climbing into the bathtub without explanation.  
  
There was a suspiciously strong smelling red Dixie cup by the sink that Derek decided to immediately pour out before turning to sit on the edge of the tub and taking in Stiles’ appearance. Stiles had his knees up, hiding his tear streaked face in his arms. “Why are you here, Derek?” he asked, voice sounding muffled.  
  
Derek tried to resist the urge to reach out and comfort, wondering where the person who given him that hickey was instead of here beside him. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Derek felt slightly out of his league, these weren’t the battles he was used to rushing in and fighting for Stiles.  
  
Stiles grunted, “I’m the drunk one in this bathroom, and even I can remember that this is where I go to school.”  
  
“I meant more along the lines of here, in this bathtub.”  
  
“Because I didn’t want to be out there anymore,” Stiles looked up at Derek, angrily rubbing the fresh tears that fell from his bloodshot eyes. “I couldn’t take it. It was like I had been told the sky was falling and everybody was just getting drunk and fucking as if it weren’t. But it is Derek, you have to believe me, it is.”  
  
Derek nodded patiently, “Okay, I believe  you,” he said while finally reaching for one of Stiles’ clenched fists. He unfurled the fingers to find a bottle cap digging into Stiles’ palm, there were traces of blood in the small indented circle. Derek made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat before confiscating the cap. He left Stiles’ hand resting in his lap. “So tell me, why is the sky falling?”  
  
Stiles reflexively curled his fist again, but Derek stopped him, very much wanting to rinse out the cut but knowing they had to finish this conversation first. “Because apparently I’m a failure. I’m actually starting to sympathize with what Scott must have felt like in high school.” Stiles ruefully smiled at Derek, his watery eyes gleaming. “I found out this afternoon that I failed my big and very important Classic Latin midterm that I had spent days studying for.” Stiles sniffed loudly, gesturing aimlessly with his free hand, “Days, Derek, days.”  
  
Derek took a minute to appreciate the absolute normalcy behind the complaint. Stiles wasn’t crying in a bathtub because of any supernatural threat. He hadn’t been chased down by monsters, or kidnapped and tortured, or nearly drowned/poisoned/stabbed/bitten; he didn’t even seem to be suffering from some social situation where he needed Derek to go beat somebody up for him, which was almost disappointing because he would have enjoyed that. Stiles was just a Freshman at college who had expectations weighing down on his shoulders, and who clearly had too much to drink with too much on his mind.    
  
Derek watched the tears still falling from Stiles’ eyes, causing his stomach to churn with just how badly he wanted to be able to stop them. “Okay, so you failed your midterm-”  
  
“But I can’t fail Derek. I can’t. I literally can’t _afford_ to. If I fail I lose my scholarships that I barely got thanks to our fucking hellish senior year, which I’m sure you also remember in as vivid and bloody detail. And if I lose all of my scholarships my Dad can’t pay for it. And then not only would I be the constant bane of his existence, I’d also be an actual disappointment.” Stiles pulled his hand back from Derek’s lap, as if he didn’t deserve Derek to be kind to him anymore.  
   
“It’s only your first year at school Stiles,” Derek tried to reason, “and it’s only one midterm. These are things you can fix. These are things _we_ can fix. The sky will still be up there tomorrow morning.”  
  
Stiles shook his head, not willing to listen. “If I fail Latin, I can’t even…I couldn’t even study more with Deaton this summer to help out Scott, and the pack, and you Derek. I’d let you all down, and then what good would I be? Why would anyone want me in the pack anymore if I’m just a failure of a useless human you always have to come save.” Another sob broke out as Stiles gestured helplessly at Derek. “You’re doing it _right now_. Saving the useless human. How many more times will it take for you to stop coming? For you to realize I’m not worth it.”  
  
Stiles finally came to a stuttering stop, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes while Derek watched in painful awe. He always knew that Stiles had lingering insecurities, that he had been forced at a young age to deal with a lot, that thanks to loss he had always been damaged goods just like Derek. But he never knew how deep the echoes of those wounds still ran. Derek felt the very real urge to protect Stiles. To track down his Latin professor and growl and threaten until they let Stiles take the test again.  
  
But instead, Derek stood up, taking back Stiles’ hand and gently pulling until Stiles cooperated to shakily stand. While still holding onto Stiles’ hand Derek stepped into the tub with him so he could pull him against his chest, gently wrapping his arms around his back. He breathed in the alcohol that clung to Stiles’ skin, handling him carefully like he really might break apart if he pressed too hard, and Stiles desperately clung to him like Derek was the lifeline he had been waiting to be thrown all night. Derek fiercely wished that Scott was there because he always knew exactly what to say, he knew Stiles’ heart inside-out. But Derek tried to remember it was him that Stiles let Julia call instead.  
  
“You’re not useless,” he spoke into Stiles’ shoulder. “If you were useless I wouldn’t be standing here today. Do you remember how many times you’ve saved my ass? All of our asses?” Stiles’ fingers dug deep into Derek’s back, while Derek resolutely ignored the growing wet patch on his shoulder. Derek  may not have been able to understand the pressures of school first-hand , but he knew what it was like to fall apart, bursting at the seams with guilt. And he knew that Stiles didn’t deserve to feel that way. “Stiles, do you remember when you were helping Scott and Isaac study for that calculus exam you all had last year? And you insisted on taking over my apartment to do so, despite loudly staying up all night teaching them.” Derek waited for Stiles to nod against his shoulder, showing he was following along. “Do you remember when Scott tried to give up? He said he’d never be able to learn it in time. That you should all just go to sleep and he could forget about graduating with all of you?” Stiles sniffed as the tears slowed as he recalled the memory. “Do you remember what you kept telling Scott that night? That he could do anything he wanted, because…”  
  
Stiles managed to smile into Derek’s shirt, “Because _nobody puts Baby in a corner_.”  
  
“That’s right. And then you lovingly changed my cell phone’s ring tone to that annoying song-”  
  
“I’ve Had The Time Of My Life.” Stiles started to loosen his grip on Derek’s back, idly running his fingers in nonsensical patterns. “It took you over a week to figure out how to change it without just smashing it.”  
  
“That’s also right. But all three of you passed that exam because of you.”  
  
Stiles hmm’d, remembering. “Because nobody puts Baby in a corner.”  
  
Derek played along, “ _Nobody_.”  
  
“You’d make a good Johnny.”  
  
“Just what I’ve always been waiting to hear.”  
  
Stiles laughed, the sound coming out hoarse. “You know, if I’ve ever imagined - which I’m totally not saying that I have - you saying nice things to me while in the bath together, there was usually a lot less crying. And clothing.”  
  
Derek gently bit into Stiles’ shoulder. “I’m going to do you a favour and not remind you tomorrow that you said that.”  
  
“You can, I don’t mind. I’m thinking that’s probably the least embarrassing thing I’ve done tonight.” Stiles’ voice sounded scratchy, “I feel like shit.”  
  
“That probably has to do with all of that alcohol you imbibed.”  
  
“Yeah, probably.” They swayed together, Stiles still not ready to let go. “Hey, Derek?”  
  
“Yes, Stiles.”  
  
“Would you ever forgive me if I threw up on your shoes?”  
  
Luckily for the both of them, they didn’t have to find out just how far Derek’s generous nature extended. Derek used his enhanced speed the way it had always been meant for, to haul Stiles out of the bathtub and land squarely in front of the toilet so he had somewhere appropriate to aim. As Stiles emptied his stomach, Derek tried to give him some space to maintain the illusion of dignity while he searched the cupboards for mouthwash. Stiles finished and weakly flushed the toilet, barely raising his head to do so.  
  
“Well,” Derek asked, “did that help at all?”  
  
“You mean did it sober me up? I’m not sure I can really weigh in on that yet.”  
  
“Do you think you’re done?”  
  
Stiles nodded, finally looking up at Derek. “How long, approximately, do you think you’re going to hold this over me?”  
  
Derek pulled Stiles up by the elbow, “Which part?” He handed over the nearly empty purple mouthwash he had managed to find. “Where you cried in the bathroom at a party? Or where you couldn’t handle your liquor and threw up in a stranger’s toilet?”  
  
Stiles spat out the mouthwash into the sink, wincing as his mouth burned. He met Derek’s eyes in their reflection. “You left out the part where I admitted to having embarrassing fantasies about you.” He turned around, leaning against the counter, just hoping it would keep him on his feet.  
  
“Actually, you only mentioned the one. But if you’d like to tell me more I’m all ears.”  
  
“Maybe later. Right now I think you’ve got enough to laugh at me for.”  
  
“I’m not really laughing at you,” Derek tried not to smile. “Mostly.”  
  
Stiles ran a hand through his messy hair, making it stick up at odd angles. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”  
  
“You drank about four too many is what you did. Now how about I take you back to your dorm and I’ll let you pretend that most of this never happened.”  
  
Stiles nodded, “Do you think you’d be able to take me home instead, to Beacon Hills?” His eyes focused somewhere around Derek’s navel. “I want to come home. For the weekend, I mean.”  
  
Derek didn’t have it in him to tease him about that. “Yeah, of course.” Derek watched Stiles tilt to the side before catching himself. “Will you need me to carry you out of here? We could go bridal style, I could really help repair your reputation.”  
  
“Fuck off,” Stiles childishly stuck his tongue out at him.  
  
But when Derek unlocked the door Stiles reached for his hand, clumsily entwining their fingers, and desperately hoping Derek would be merciful and not point it out. Derek didn’t say a word as he led him out back down the stairs and through the boisterous crowd. He justified that there was just no sense in kicking Stiles while he was down.  
  
-  
  
With the radio off and Stiles asleep in the passenger seat, it was an unusually quiet ride back to Beacon Hills. Only when they got back into town did Derek lean over to gently shake Stiles awake while at a red light. “Stiles.”  
  
“Yeah?” Stiles rubbed at where his face had been pressed up against the glass.  
  
“We’re back.”  
  
“Right,” Stiles stretched out his arms, accidentally cracking some fingers. “I know tonight’s been a night of favours, but do you think you could do one more for me?” he asked, sounding more sober already.  
  
“What now?” Derek side-eyed him, appreciating the lack of slurred words. “And please don’t ask for me to take you to McDonald’s. You know how I feel about you guys eating that crap.”  
  
“Dude, I didn’t even want it until you said it!” Stiles turned back to looking out his window. “But I was actually going to ask if you wouldn’t take me home to my dad yet. I just don’t think this is how I want to show up in the middle of the night.”  
  
“You mean the Sheriff wouldn’t want his under-age son turning up on his doorstep bleary eyed, covered in hickeys, and reeking of alcohol?”  
  
“Singular hickey! Don’t make me sound like such a floozy. But, uh, yes. That is exactly what I meant, thank you for laying it out so clearly.”  
  
“I don’t know how you can even complain. You left your dignity in the bottom of that toilet back there.”  
  
 “It would seem that way,” Stiles sighed as if truly put upon. “So, you wouldn’t mind?”  
  
“No, I wouldn’t. I think I’d suffer some unfair accusations if I was the one to drop you off in that state anyways.”  
  
Stiles crooked a smile at him, “Why Derek Hale, are you saying you care what my dad thinks of you?”  
  
Derek rolled his eyes, “Only if he were to blame me for your debauched state.”  
  
“Uh huh. _Debauched_.”  
  
Derek stared resolutely ahead as he made his turn towards his apartment, “Please shut up now.”  
  
Stiles laughed quietly before obeying all the way until they walked into the apartment. “So I was thinking, what if instead of you making me try to fall back asleep to work the rest of this out of my system, you make me some very strong coffee and stay up long enough to see the sunrise?”  
  
Derek draped his leather jacket over the back of the couch. “It is after 4 in the morning and instead of letting me go back to sleep on my couch here, when I was going to so generously offer my bed to you, you want me to stay up with you to watch a sunrise?”  
  
“Well, yeah. I mean especially if you’re going to say it like that, because you know I just thrive off your enthusiasm.”  
  
Derek dropped heavily onto the cushions, his head falling back to stare up at the ceiling. “You’re kind of exhausting.”  
  
Stiles took that as an emphatic yes as he walked into the kitchen, rifling through Derek’s coffee stash, looking for the good stuff. “That’s what the caffeine is for,” he called over his shoulder. He returned to the living room when the coffee was brewing. “Come on, when was the last time you stayed up to watch a sunrise?”  
  
“I have a lot of sleepless nights, Stiles. You think we keep these streets safe from 9-5 only?”  
  
Stiles squinted his eyes in the way he loved to do when he was so obviously exasperated with the people he willingly chose to surround himself with. “I mean when was the last time you stayed up to watch the sun rise, _just because you could_?”  
  
“I don’t remember,” Derek confessed, watching Stiles start to sway a little where he stood. “But if I agree, will you please sit down before you hurt yourself, rendering all of my uncharacteristic heroic efforts this evening a waste.”  
  
Stiles smiled somewhat charmingly at Derek before coming to sit right beside him. “It’s not as uncharacteristic as you’d like it to be.” He rested his head on the back of the couch, lolling over to face Derek. “I always knew you cared,” he said softly.  
  
Derek could smell the remnants of mouthwash on his breath, which was so much better than the overwhelming smell of alcohol from before. “Who said I did?”  
  
“Mm, you did. Maybe not in so many words since you’re just not a very verbose kind of guy. But I get it, don’t worry.” Stiles winked conspiratorially, an easy smile playing across his mouth.  
  
Derek gently pushed his face away from his, the goofy smile being too much for him. “Are you sure you aren’t still drunk?”  
  
“Pretty sure?” Stiles looked down at his hands, wiggling his fingers. “I’m at least 90% sober by now. I can actually feel my hands again, I only mostly want to say embarrassing things instead of definitely wanting to, and I’m starting to feel like maybe the sky isn’t really falling just yet.”  
  
Derek could hear the coffee finish in the kitchen. “So do I get to call you Chicken Little now?”  
  
“Only if you want me to call you something gross and endearing every time we’re around other people. Loudly.”  
  
Derek stood up to make the coffee, saying on the way to the kitchen, “Might be worth it.” He heard Stiles scoff as he took out two mugs, making the coffee without needing to ask Stiles how he took his (one milk, two sugar, three on a bad day). Derek brought the steaming cup to the already brighter Stiles sitting on the couch. Seeing him smiling again eased some of the pressure that had built up in Derek’s chest when Stiles first opened the bathroom door.  
  
Stiles gingerly took the mug, “Thanks,” he said while blowing at the wisps of steam. “Hey, do you think we could sit up on the roof to watch? Like we did that night Scott was obsessed with the constellations Deaton had taught him, but he couldn’t actually find any to point out.”  
  
“Fine. But get a sweater. We’re not going up there just for you to demand I give you the shirt off my back because you’re cold.” Stiles happily followed the order, digging through Derek’s closet for his favourite red American Apparel hoodie Derek would wear when he was lounging around the loft.  
  
Stiles zipped up the slightly oversized sweater. “You’re so bossy when you’re being considerate,” he said as he took the offered coffee from Derek.  
  
“It’s just my natural disposition.”  
  
“Don’t I know it.”  
  
Derek lightly cuffed the back of Stiles’ head as they made their way up the stairs leading to the rooftop. They hadn’t been up there since the summer, but there were still some fold-out lawn chairs waiting for them leaning against a partition. The green and white chairs creakily opened up as they settled in them side by side; Stiles opened up two for himself so he could have somewhere to prop his feet up. It was peaceful with no more wind to disturb them, and almost nearing dawn.  
  
They sat in a comfortable silence, drinking their coffee as Stiles sent out a few explanatory and apologetic texts. Derek could hear the fairly constant vibration of Stiles’ phone, so he assumed he had gotten in touch with Scott at least. He waited patiently, until Stiles laughed aloud, finished typing and slipped the phone in his hoodie’s pocket. Stiles looked up to notice Derek watching him, “What’s up?”  
  
“You told Scott you’re okay?”  
  
“Yeah. He hasn’t really gotten the whole story yet, but he has enough to know he doesn’t need to wake up my father and send the Sheriff’s department to the party looking for me.”    
  
Derek nodded satisfied, before finally asking something he’d been thinking about all night, “Why didn’t you call Scott to come get you tonight? You know he would have gladly torn that campus apart to find you and make sure you were okay.”  
  
“I don’t doubt it for a second. But I just couldn’t stand the thought of needing to call him to rescue me over something so stupid.”  
  
“You called me to come rescue you over something so stupid.”  
  
Stiles crossed his ankles, playing with the handle of his mug. “That’s different.”  
  
“How?” Derek continued to watch Stiles’ profile, doing his best not to listen too hard to Stiles’ telling heartbeat.  
  
Stiles finally turned to meet Derek’s eyes. “I love Scotty like a brother. We would do anything for each other. But I knew that if I called, him and Kira would come running, claws and swords blazing, and find me in that bathroom, just like you did. And I knew they’d coax me out of that bathtub and take me home, telling me everything is going to be okay, which you mostly did. But do you know what you did that they wouldn’t have?” Derek remained silent, waiting. “You climbed into the tub with me. You didn’t just try to remove me from the situation. You got in there and wrapped your stupidly big arms around me as if you could just try hard enough and literally hold me together.” Stiles sighed, as if explaining this was costing him, “I think that’s because you understand what that felt like, because we’re both, y’know…”  
  
“Damaged goods?” Derek offered.  
  
“Exactly.” They both tried to absorb the admission. “Thank you though, for all of it. I’m kinda bummed you had to see me be such a fall down mess, to be honest.”  
  
“You know you’re not supposed to thank me.” Derek gestured offhandedly, “It’s just part of our unspoken agreement to keep saving each other. And besides, we’ve all been there.”  
  
“Despite dealing with life and death situations fairly rationally, you too have had a complete meltdown over your grades?”  
  
“I wasn’t being quite so literal. But I’ve had my fair share of meltdowns.” They both knew it was true. Nobody in their pack had made it this far without falling apart once or twice in their time. Just par for course when you’re the last standing line against whatever goes bump in the night.  
  
“Do you think I’ll really be able to fix it?”  
  
Derek didn’t hesitate, “Yes. On Monday you’re going to call Lydia and ask her to tutor you over Skype, like you should have been doing since September. You do remember she was the one that moved on to Archaic Latin because she was bored?”  
  
“I remember. I think I just wanted to prove I could do it.”  
  
“You can do it. Just with a bit of helpful ass kicking along the way.”  
  
Stiles knocked their shoulders together, “Seriously, thanks.”  
  
“You’re welcome…Little Chicken.”  
  
“Hey! What did I say about humiliating nicknames?”  
  
“What?” Derek smiled innocently, “I didn’t say it.”  
  
“You know that counts, _sweetheart_.”  
  
Derek shook his head, pleased with the way Stiles sounded so much more like himself again. “You know, before I forget. You owe that Julia girl for looking out for you tonight.”  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Stiles drew out the curse. “I almost forgot about her. Think it’s too late to just change schools?”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“I was afraid of that.” Stiles dramatically dropped his face into his hand, “That means I have to actually see her in class this week.”  
  
“That is usually how that works. Do you like this girl?”  
  
“What? I mean,” Stiles floundered, “we’re friendly enough yeah, but not like that. It’s just so much worse her seeing me fall apart than you seeing me like that.”  
  
“Thanks?”  
   
“It’s mostly a compliment. You’ve just had the unfortunate opportunity to see me at every point of my emotional spectrum, so this in the grand scheme of things is pretty normal for us. But this was a very pretty girl who until tonight used to voluntarily think nice things about me without me having to even try too hard. Now she’s going to think I’m just one of those people that cries at parties.”  
  
Derek didn’t point out that Stiles had really been one of those people that cried at parties. “So it wasn’t Julia who gave you that hickey?”  
  
“No, just somebody else at the party I barely remember.” Stiles’ cheeks reddened at the memory. “Could you stop reminding me it’s there?”  
  
“Hm, somebody you hardly remember?” Derek asked suspiciously.  
  
Stiles turned away from watching the horizon to meet his challenge. “Yes, it was a guy I’ve seen at these parties before, and it didn’t mean anything. Although, I don’t even know why I’m trying to justify myself to you-”  
  
“You let a strange guy mark you,” Derek deadpanned.  
  
“ _Oh_ , is this a possessive wolf-related thing?“ Stiles smirked mischievously, “Come on Derek, you know I’m a one-pack man.”  
  
“But you let him mark you,” Derek stubbornly insisted, aware that it was getting further under his skin than it needed to.  
  
“Well, yeah.” Stiles laughed, “But I was just drunkenly making out with a dude, not selling myself over as his property.”  
  
“He should have been the one who was looking after you tonight,” Derek somewhat sulkily pointed out.  
  
The laugh lines smoothed out on Stiles’ face as he studied Derek carefully, realizing there was genuine concern lingering behind Derek’s accusations. “I’m actually glad it wasn’t.”  
  
Derek shook his head exasperated, “Stiles-”  
  
“What? Are you really going to sit there and tell me that you would have rather this stranger be the one who was there for me tonight?” Derek refrained from answering. “He only marked me because I was drunk. But we both know, whether or not we’ve been admitting it out loud, that I already belong elsewhere.”  
  
Derek’s eyes flashed blue. “You know you shouldn’t tease a wolf about his territory.”  
  
“Who said I’m teasing?”  
  
Stiles took Derek’s hand, placing it over the red mark on the far side of his neck, hiding it. Derek didn’t hesitate to lean in, his mouth pressing to the bare side of Stiles’ neck. He took a moment to revel in the way Stiles’ pulse fluttered, in the way it confirmed that he was okay, he was here between Derek’s hand and his mouth, and he was okay. And then he carefully sucked an obvious red, wet mark below Stiles’ pulse point. Stiles made a low noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t protest. He waited for Derek to finish, as he distractedly watched the far clouds in the sky begin to finally get lighter. Derek finally pulled back, deeply satisfied with the dark red mark, nonchalantly sipping at the now lukewarm remains of his coffee.  
  
Stiles sighed heavily, “Derek?”  
  
“Mhm?”  
  
“You know the only reason I’m not jumping you right now is because you’d probably consider it taking advantage of me after everything tonight, and I rather the first time you fuck me to be nothing but pleasant memories.”  
  
Derek smirked at the bold assumption. “Good to know. I thought it would be because you’d miss the sunrise.” The sun was finally breaching, lighting the sky on fire with brilliant shades of oranges and pinks.  
  
Stiles tugged on Derek’s shirt until he faced him, and easily closed the distance between them again. The kiss was at a leisurely pace, both now tasting of coffee; all earlier traces of heartbreak and alcohol gone from Stiles’ system. Derek pressed his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, unhurried in his exploration. Stiles moaned around his tongue, playing with the folds of Derek’s blue Henley between his fingers. Stiles eventually managed to pull back, nipping at Derek’s bottom lip.  
  
They pressed their foreheads together before turning back to see the morning light of a new day. “Like you said, the sky isn’t falling yet. There will always be more sunrises to watch.”  
  
“I’m glad you’re feeling so optimistic,” Derek straightened out his shirt, “because now with that second hickey there is no way I’m driving you to your dad’s later.”  
  
“Dude!” Stiles smacked Derek’s shoulder, “You couldn’t let me hold on to my optimism for like, an entire two minutes? We were having a moment there.” Stiles suddenly slyly smiled at Derek, “Besides, what’s there to be afraid of? My dad being in the know these days would help you out. I mean, if it came down to it he’d only shoot you with regular bullets instead of the wolfsbane ones he keeps handy.”  
  
“That really isn’t as comforting as you think it is.”  
  
“Don’t be such a baby.”  
  
“Want me to shoot you so you can see how it feels?”  
   
“No. What I want is for you to take me to bed now so that we can sleep all day. And instead of telling anyone I’m here this weekend we’re just going to hide here, and you’re going to learn the more discreet places to leave hickeys.”  
  
Derek nodded, liking Stiles’ plan immediately. “I can live with that.”  
  
“Good, optimism restored!” Stiles stood up, reaching for Derek’s hand. “So you better not ruin it by snoring.”  


**Author's Note:**

> I have this headcanon where the pack has themed movie nights. And they clearly had an 80's dance night including Flashdance, Footloose, and Dirty Dancing. So they're all up to date with cheesy (aka. iconic) references.


End file.
